


Revised

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Varric lies, usually to Anders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revised

“…with the Templars vanquished, the mage was able to rescue his true love, and they lived happily ever after.”   
  
“Varric, that’s the third story you’ve told me that ends with the heroic mage getting the girl in a fairy tale ending. You don’t have to humor me.”   
  
“Come on Blondie, you know I’m just reading what’s written down.” Varric looked down over his half-moon glasses at Anders, who was curled up next to him on the sofa, blond hair damp and matted to a pillow as he worked through the fever that had been plaguing him for the last week. Magic didn’t seem to touch it, so Varric had been giving Anders the Mama Tethras Traditional Cold Remedy: chicken soup, tea, bourbon and storytelling.   
  
He was keeping the soup down at least, though the fever and chills meant he was too exhausted to sit up and drink it half the time. He was chilled now, sweating, curled up into a fragile, trembling ball under Varric’s duster.   
  
“Tell me the story of the Champion again.”   
  
“Come on, Blondie. Don’t you think that one’s been told enough?” Varric asked with a sigh. Those were old wounds that didn’t need reopening, especially when Anders was this ill.   
  
“If you’re going to fill my head with tales of heroic mages, you might as well tell the one that I’m actually in.” Anders shifted, pulling the leather jacket tighter around him, quivering violently from the cold. Varric leaned forward and grabbed the mug of hot tea, forcing it into Anders’ hand. He sipped it, half-heartedly, before letting it hang slack.   
  
“Alright Blondie. Let’s start from the beginning.”   
  
Varric started at the beginning, but the one he reserved just for Anders, where, upon coming to Kirkwall, the Champion met a tired, but handsome apostate in the sewers, and fell in love immediately. He fudged the details—all of them. Ella survives. Meredith gets what’s coming to her far before it gets out of control. No mages turn to blood magic out of desperation. Karl never becomes Tranquil.   
  
As Anders finally begins to fall into a fitful sleep, Varric just starts making it up. The Champion doesn’t run off with the Tevinter elf, instead, he frees the mages with the handsome, dashing apostate at his side. They stay in Kirkwall, making it a haven for mages, cast-offs, and slaves.   
  
Varric was getting good at this one. It was Anders’ favorite. He said that it made him feel like he was still in Kirkwall, back when things were okay, back when he was still himself at least half of the time, back when they weren’t moving from city to city to escape what he’d done. It left Varric thinking that if he told it enough, maybe the fiction could become reality, for Blondie, at least.   
  
Because Anders needed the lies more than anyone.


End file.
